


when angels fall

by FrostybWitch



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallen Angels, Angels and Demons, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, dark and possibly disturbing themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-06 11:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17938511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostybWitch/pseuds/FrostybWitch
Summary: Lena wheezes; an ugly, ragged sound that tears right through her being, rattling her ribs as she gasps and struggles for air. She gags, choking back on the gurgle of ichor rising up the back of her throat, only to flood back down into her lungs, drowning her.Being an immortal, Lena has always been what the mortals on Earth would deem invulnerable.But for the very first time, she bleeds.Shehurts.Or.The Fallen Angel AU where an extremely jaded, fallen angel Lena manages to find solace in a blessed mortal like Kara.





	1. the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"And angels who did not keep their own domain, but abandoned their proper abode, He has kept in eternal bonds under darkness for the judgment of the great day." -- Jude 1:6, KJV._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied sexual assault

Lena wheezes; an ugly, ragged sound that tears right through her being, rattling her ribs as she gasps and struggles for air. She gags, choking back on the gurgle of ichor rising up the back of her throat, only to flood back down into her lungs, drowning her.

Being an immortal, Lena has always been what the mortals on Earth would deem invulnerable.

But for the very first time, she bleeds.

She _hurts_.

Beneath her, her wings are completely and utterly crushed, and from the corner of her eye, she can see that it is jutting out, contorted at an odd, unnatural angle.

Lena shudders out another breath, grimacing at the throb of pain that shoots right through her entire being like hellfire surging through her veins. It’s the kind of pain that she’d only ever imagine reading or hearing about through the many wild tales spun up by the mortals living beneath the silver city, albeit never really quite experiencing it herself firsthand – what with her (literally) god given invincibility granted by the heavens.

But this…

This is far more excruciating and all so agonising than Lena has ever expected. She can barely move a muscle, much less even crack an eyelid open from the torrential rain pouring down on her relentlessly. But as a guardian of the silver city, she powers through nonetheless, peering through her heavily laden lids to stare past the silver sheets of rain at the stormy heavens above.

Her vision is a deep blur of liquid gold and grey, and for a split second, Lena thinks she might have caught a familiar outline peeking through the tumultuous dark clouds. And she lets herself hope – no matter how dire her current situation is.

With all the strength that she can possibly muster, she raises a battered hand, outstretched and shaky; and with all the desperation imbued in her, she calls out in a broken whisper, praying that the whistle of the wind would help carry her voice despite the drumming of the rain possibly drowning her out.

“H-help…”

 _Please, Father_.

A flash of lightning, followed by the frightening clash of thunder.

The rain seems to fall a little harder after.

Closing her eyes with a cough and a sputter, Lena allows her hand to fall limply back to her side, resigned and broken.

Because in it all, she knows – the heavens have spoken.

And help never did come.

 

* * *

 

The concept of time is an awfully mortal construct, something that most immortals have trouble grasping, but as Lena lays, battered, bleeding and unmoving, she wonders just how long it has been.

She has watched the seasons change, has seen the leaves on the trees tumble down onto the soil, so rich with rain, in garlands of red and gold; has proceeded to watch the trees cry their last golden tears, baring out in their denuded forms against the startling white streets, blanketed in layers of snow. Only for everything to melt away come one fine day when the sun hangs bright and warm, flowers blooming in an array of bright vivid colours. Seen it all repeat, over and over again.

Has it been days?

Months? Years?

Lena doesn’t know for sure, only that it feels like an eternity to her.

She wonders how her brother is faring; if he’s suffering as much as she is, tormented by the intermittent jolts of pain that strikes her when she least expects it, threatening to claw right through the gaps of her ribs with every laboured breath she takes.

She plays back the last memory she has of Alexander – or Lex, as Lena affectionately knows him by. Her recollection is at best fuzzy, the spiteful words they had brandished and thrown at each other in their heated argument sounding more like garbled nonsense now. But the context behind their verbal fight is still as clear as day.

She remembers the look of horror on his face that had then quickly morphed, warping into a twisted sneer when he had managed to somehow catch himself on the fringe of Lena’s sleeve, after having lost his footing on a precarious edge of the silver city.

A misstep that neither of them had seen coming, much less planned for. It had caught them both completely off guard, and right up till then Lena has never known that such beautifully sculpted features were ever capable of producing such unpleasant expression.

 _“I’ll show you how rotten the mortals truly are.”_ He had laughed derisively, eyes flashing bright with the unbecoming shades of anger and hate.

And with a forceful tug, Lena finds herself falling alongside her brother.

 

* * *

 

 _This is torture,_ Lena thinks. Her wounds are barely healing, closing up at an excruciating slow rate. But at least for the first time in forever, she is breathing without that sharp whistle in her lungs and the pain that has plagued her since her fall has dulled out into faint throb. However, she is not about to tempt fate and make that Lex foolish mistake of getting up before she’s completely ready to.

The last time she tried, she had spent days keening over in agonising pain, coughing up mouthful after mouthful of golden ichor, so much so that her tongue had tasted cloyingly thick and putrid for days on end.

Never again, she swears, and has since then resigned herself to a perpetual state of inertia. So, she spends the hours and days watching as the mortals pass her by, carefully and gingerly side-stepping over her prone form along the sidewalk.

She has long since learnt that calling out to them for help is of no use. No matter how pitiful her cries are, no matter how loud she pleads, they can’t hear her. Well, not that they can’t actually hear, _hear_ her per se, more like that they don’t (can’t) notice her.

Because to the mortals, Lena is just another faceless stranger in the crowd; the ever so familiar name on the tip of one’s tongue. The memory in your head that doesn’t linger long enough to be retained or remembered.

If they do happen to notice her on the off chance, they’ll just forget about her instantly. Humans are ever quite the forgetful creature, after all. Father has specially made them that way. A form of leniency, Lena would say – to spare them from being plighted by otherworldly troubles far beyond their control. He always has had a soft spot for them like that. It’s almost something He tries to instil in all of His children.

Well, maybe not _all_ of them.

Her mind inevitably flickers over to Lex and his disdain for humanity, and she wonders where at which point did it all went wrong.

A squabble catches her attention one odd evening. It starts off as something trivial. Nothing that Lena has never seen before in a bicker between a man and a woman. She doesn’t pay much mind to it at first, not wanting to involve herself unnecessarily in some petty mortal dispute. After all, it’s not anything she’s particularly unused to by now, having since spent her remainder of days doing nothing but mortal-watching. But things eventually get heated, and the trivial squabble soon becomes a full-blown struggle.

Before Lena can even make sense of the situation, the young female mortal is pushed down onto the grimy floor with a particularly rough shove against her shoulders. And in the next moment, her attacker is looming over her, pinning her down steadfastly with a certain viciousness in his grip.

“No, please – stop!”

“Come on, doll, you were basically asking for it with that short skirt and that low top. Don’t think I didn’t notice you giving me those BJ eyes from across the floor – ”

At the resounding slap that echoes through the dark, seedy alleyway that Lena has unfortunately the full view of, the stocky man, who is a clear foot taller than his female companion, sees red. It’s a quick snap change, one that even takes Lena by surprise as he loses that simpering smile for something darker – more twisted.

She can smell it off him, wafting across the alleyway in thick, musky fumes. There’s nothing more foul and repulsive than the odour of lust and wrath weaving in and intermingling into one. And as much as Lena wishes she could do something to help – to rid the stain of sin off this earth – she can’t.

Not in this current state where she can barely lift a finger without bearing down in all sorts of pain, she can’t.

So, when the sinner throws himself onto his defenceless victim, Lena can’t do anything but watch on helplessly.

It is then does she realise that there might be some truth in Lex’ words after all.

Murder. Theft. Rape.

She has seen it all and heard it all in the time she has spent lying there, all prone and weak in the sordid alleyway she has landed herself in since her fall.

The heart-wrenching cries for help, the sobs and pleas for mercy.

The spill of blood that soaks the earth red.

And the deafening silence that follows soon after.

It happens over and over again like a never-ending cycle. Like a tragic play predestined for misery, replaying, albeit with a different set of actors each time.

Lex was right.

 _Is_ right.

The mortals _are_ rotten.

They lie, they cheat, they kill, and they take. They’re cruel and they’re selfish. And each time another one bites the dust, dropping limp onto the grubby concrete ground, stained with the sins of evil, broken, hurt and shattered; something dark begins to bloom in Lena’s chest, taking seed and growing roots.

 _Resentment_ – as she would come to learn overtime. She begins to question her Father’s love for such selfish beings, second-guessing all that has ever been taught to her since her creation.

_Are the mortals really worth protecting?_

 

* * *

 

It's once again the time where the trees are shed bare, their skeletal frame shuddering in the wintry breeze as snow flutters down from the grey-washed heavens, lining all that it touches a sheet of sheer white.

Lena hobbles unsteadily, limping her way through the sea of ice. She has only recently regained enough strength to haul herself up without doubling back over in distress or pain, and she wastes no time in making full use of her newfound mobility, setting out through the streets aimlessly, her destination unknown and her future bleak.

She wonders if she should seek her brother out, wonders if he's still alive. And if he is – has he completely fallen in the time spent in the mortal realm.

She immediately shakes that unnerving thought out from her head and continues her solemn march through the relatively empty streets.

It's supposedly cold out at the moment. Frigid, as she has heard a passing mortal remark with a shuddering breath that rises up into the atmosphere in a swirl of vapour. It would appear that most of them have taken indoors in a vain attempt to escape from the biting chill. And when they do come outdoors, they're usually all bundled up in ridiculously thick layers. Something that Lena finds odd as she trudges through the marsh of snow, barefooted, with the ice crunching sharply between her toes. Though it may be that she doesn't experience the cold like the mortals do.

She has heard them speak of mind-numbing chills that seep into their bones, weathering them down stiff, with aches between their joints; icy breezes that prick at their cheeks and noses, colouring them pink as their teeth chatter against each other. Granted, the occasional breeze does get in her way at times, jostling and threatening to blow the few article of clothing she has picked up along the way right off her thin frame; it doesn't particularly bother her like the way it does to the mortals who seem to cower, buckling down on their coats and their jackets from the slightest brush of it.

She does feel the cold too, yes. Albeit more like a pleasant coolness over her skin, a nice kind of refreshing tingle across her flesh.

It's rather invigorating, she thinks. And if she's able to choose, she would very much prefer it to the balmy heat of the summer. At least the snow cushions her feet, unlike the gritty gravel that catches between her toes and nails with every step she takes.

Lena sighs, slumping back against the grimy wall of an alleyway. She would have walked on forever if she could. But experience tells her otherwise, and she knows better than to push the limits of her newly recovered body.

Come night, is when she rests, laying low from the creatures that arise from the dark. Because everyone knows that without her Father's glorious light and protection, the night belongs to them.

The daemons and the lesser spirits, alongside the sons and daughters of her once beloved older brother – Lucifer. Celestial being or not, she knows fair well that the way she is now, leaves her in a particularly vulnerable position, and she would rather choose to avoid any forms of altercations if possible.

Dusting the snow off her tattered and worn garbs, an ensemble made up of a dirty shirt and a pair of torn jeans, topped off with a ratty cloak – something she had picked up on a whim to rid herself of the mess of her ichor-ruined tunic – she cocks her head up skywards, peering up at the starless heavens that have ultimately forsaken her.

Bitterness claws at her chest despite herself, and it stings like sin. She drops her gaze, hanging her head with yet another sigh and instead chooses to trace figureless shapes in the snow as a form of distraction.

Without the backing of the silver city behind her, nor the warmth and love of her Father and her brother surrounding her, Lena has never felt more alone than this very instance.

 

* * *

 

 

Lena spends twelve nights thinking and some, when it suddenly hits her that she has got no clue to what she’s doing. She has been dragging her healing body, that is otherwise still fairly crippled, through the grey-washed, snow-piled streets of the mortal realm for days. And to what end? She does not know.

A part of her probably thinks that the further she walks on she’ll eventually find the purpose she seeks. But that’s just wishful thinking on her part.

The mortals can’t sense her, and it’s not like she has an obligation to serve or guide them anymore – not after having seen their true colours.

Then should she finally go seek her estranged brother out?

And what? For him to tell her ‘I told you so’ and for her to admit that she has ever been wrong to doubt him.

She thinks not.

With the way thing are, with her barely capable to keep a steady gait while walking, she honestly doubts she can even fly herself back up to the silver city without pummelling back down to the mortal realm. Her body wouldn’t last a second fall, she’s sure of it.

So Lena passes the remainder of her days in a proverbial and literal slump, knees tucked to her chin, shoulders hunched and arms curled over her frame into a tight ball.

She has no reason and no purpose.

And an angel who has lost their purpose has all but one fate – to wither away and ****_fall_****.

 

* * *

 

It’s a misty morning where Lena comes upon her by chance.

Or maybe it’s the other way around, not that it matters. Because what does matter is that they had found each other in the midst of the morning bustle where the mortals jostle against each other in a race to reach their destination first – jobs and responsibilities, as they call it.

She had hovered over Lena for a beat and half longer than she is used to, her long shadow casting across Lena’s frame from where she stands. But even then, Lena hadn’t paid her any mind. There is a poster plastered above the spot she is lounged at after all, and she wouldn’t put it past the mortal and their troubling curiosity to be drawn to it – as with the others that have stopped by for a quick read

Or so Lena thinks, until the mortal leans down forwards to press a warm cup of coffee into her hands.

The action had inadvertently shaken her, rattled her straight down to the core.

Because when Lena finally glances up from her sea of dark thoughts, she finds herself meeting a pair of striking blue eyes staring right back at her.

“Here, a pick-me-up to help tide you through this cold Monday morning,” the mortal says, a good-natured smile on her lips, as radiant as the morning sun beating down on them.

“You noticed me,” Lena murmurs, with a quiet hitched breath filled with awe and disbelief.

She searches the mortal’s face for a long moment, and fidgets, watching as those vivid blue depths dart across her face in turn.

Her heart pulses at the realisation, stuttering with a sharp beat.

Yes, there’s no doubt about it.

She _is_ looking at her. Not through or past her.

_At her._

“Of course, I did.” The mortal says, smiling warmly down at her. “It’s hard not to. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

Not the rest of the seven billion people on this earth, they wouldn’t.

Lena tries not to stare at the way the sunlight seems to catch in her gold-spun hair, haloed over her like a distant spotlight in the backdrop. There’s almost a vague ethereal glimmer to this mortal – this girl – if Lena squints hard enough. Traces of divinity that outlines her form; and now that Lena sees it, she just can’t ignore it.

A blessed mortal?

Yes, that would certainly explain things a little.

Lena drops her gaze back down at the coffee in her hands. “This is…” She pushes the cuppa back towards the mortal sheepishly. “Really not necessary.” Considering that there’s no need for celestial beings to consume sustenance to stay alive unlike mortals.

Not that it’s common knowledge.

“But I insist!” The girl gently urges the styrofoam cup back into the cradle of Lena’s hands. Her fingers are surprisingly warm over hers. “I know the weather report says it’ll warm up later, but I really can’t bring myself to trust it these days. It’s only been getting colder and colder lately.” She sighs, and quietly under her breath, she muses, almost to herself. “I wonder if we’ve done something to anger the big guy upstairs.”

Lena visibly flinches at that, shifting surreptitiously under the mortal’s hold, which unfortunately for her, doesn’t go unnoticed.

The girl tightens her clasp over Lena’s hands – and in it, the cup of coffee. “Take it,” she says, with a smile. Her eyes are an earnest deep blue, rivalling the shade of the heavens above. “Please.”

There’s something about the mortal that feels like home to Lena. The lines of her face and the soft crinkle to her eyes. They’re all so familiar to her, yet so very foreign at the Lexe time. Though, the clear-thinking side of her knows it’s more than likely the blessing of divinity at play here; she still can’t help but accept the coffee out of sheer sentimentality sake.

“Thank you,” murmurs Lena quietly, and it’s only when the words have left her that she realises that she actually – truly – means it from the bottom of her heart.

Gratitude, Lena muses absently. It’s been so long since she’s last felt grateful for anything that the words had almost felt alien on her tongue. ( _That, coming from an angel, must be appalling.)_

The girl beams, and with a nod, she bids Lena goodbye, disappearing off to join the crowd of mortals on the streets.

Glancing down at the steaming cup of coffee cradled between her palms, Lena sighs, albeit smiling faintly. Celestial beings do not require sustenance to live, but she supposes it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in it once in a while. Bringing the tiny slit of an opening to her lips, she chooses to sip at it like she has seen the mortals do on the streets, as opposed to guzzling it all down in one large swig as she had initially intended to do so.

She sighs contentedly. The coffee is a nice, pleasant balminess down her throat, and as it settles in her stomach, it mellows her from the inside out.

Warm.

_Just like those fingers over her hands._

Lena starts with a breath, as the sudden realisation hits her – rather belatedly. She clutches at the styrofoam cup a little tighter, gingerly holding it up against her chest.

It’s her first ever experience of kindness in this realm.

And for the rest of the day, she can’t shake away that warm and tingly feeling blossoming in her chest, or the acrid bitterness on her tongue.

* * *

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my ode to the world.
> 
> (god bless, everyone!)


	2. salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” -- Isaiah 12:3_

Fortunately, it isn't the last time that Lena gets to see her. The mortal girl that goes by Kara, as per her introduction on their second meeting. For whatever reasons that Lena cannot fathom, she keeps returning to her. Over and over again. Usually in the mornings, sometimes during the evenings, but **_always_** with that radiant smile on her face.

She comes bearing Lena gifts. Mostly foodstuffs that she doesn't have much care for. Though, it's really the gesture behind the gifts that Lena is actually starved for, as much as she would ever admit it; which is why she accepts all that she has been given without fuss.

Kindness in this realm, as Lena has come to learn over time, is especially hard to come by after all, and she'll take what she can get.

Kara offers her a pair of shoes, along with a hearty meatball sub, one odd evening.

It's out of the blue, and completely unwarranted. But when she's gazing down at Lena, eyes wide and expectant, and smile ever so sweet and warm, she finds that she can't exactly say no.

"I couldn't figure out your size, so I had to guess," Kara says, gently urging the shoes into Lena's hands – as per her usual routine now. "I hope it fits."

It does.

Granted, it's a tad loose around the toes, but it fits. And judging from its pristine-white appearance, Lena is surprised to find that it's brand new. She knows, from the brief glimpses at the display of shops along the streets, that shoes don't exactly come cheap, and she wonders just how much had Kara spent on her.

And why.

She has seen the dirty looks the mortals throw at the occasional scroungers off the streets – homeless good-for-nothings, they call them, albeit under their breaths. It's been a while since Lena's coming to the lower realm, but she's always been bewildered by the mortals and their tendencies to hold others of their kind in disdain for lacking in what they have. It's a strange, puzzling thing that Lena can't seem to wrap her head around.

Mortals and their idiosyncrasies – and their undue cruelty to one another.

It's repulsive.

Why would her Father ever hold these miserable creatures in such high regard is honestly beyond Lena.

But this girl.

Kara.

She seems different – blessed by divinity aside. She is quite unlike the rest of her brood.

She doesn't look at Lena with scorn in her eyes despite her ragtag scruffy appearance. She doesn't flinch away when their fingers brush – even when Lena's are caked with dirt and grime.

She's by far a little more polished around the edges than the others, Lena supposes.

She's softer. Kinder.

 _Genuine_.

Though, who is to say that she might, in fact, be just another fool, bumbling through this dog-eat-dog world with a pair of rose-tinted glasses and a martyr complex.

Or maybe she does indeed have too big of a heart to give.

Either way, she has certainly piqued Lena's interest.

 

* * *

 

Lena startles awake to the violent shaking of her shoulders and the frantic tapping of her cheeks that is nearly bordering on hurting.

She grimaces, groaning at the shrill sound of her name piercing through the air like a siren, and would have gotten away with ignoring it if it weren't for the persistent assault on her body forcing her eyes open – her bleary vision to focus onto the figure looming over her.

"Lena!"

"Kara...?" She rasps, trying to squint past the fog of sleep that is still bogging down heavily over her as it seems.

Granted, she doesn't need sleep as much as the next celestial being does, but in the days of her fall from heaven, it has been more like a means to an end – a way to kill time while she awaits her fate.

A way to forget.

Though, of course, like everything else, it comes with its downsides too. In which case – the disorientation that comes upon awakening.

It takes Lena three hard blinks and a good rub of her eyes to realise that the 'fog of sleep' isn't so much as something metaphorical as she had initially thought to be, but an actual corporeal fog.

A snow fog.

When it finally hits her, it is then does she realise that she's buried to the chin, blanketed under a thick, thick layer of snow that is also falling over them in swirls of white petals. All around, the wind howls, a plaintive cry in the distance, and as it brushes them by quite brusquely, she catches Kara shiver, buckling down on her parka with a wince.

"What are you doing out in a weather like this?" Lena frowns deeply, perturbed.

The hands over hers are noticeably lacking in its usual warmth, almost shaking from the cold, and it's the most alarming. Because heaven knows how fragile the mortals are. They freeze and they burn, they can perish from the heat, they sure as heck can perish from the cold too.

"It's not safe for you to be outside."

"I can say the same to you too!"

She glances up at the mortal's face, trying to get a better read on her, but it doesn't help that she's bundled all the way up to her nose, her maroon muffler flapping wildly behind her in the wind, hiding away everything but her vivid blue eyes that are flashing bright with indignation and worry.

"I told you there was a storm coming, and I also told you to seek shelter at the homeless centre now, didn't I?"

"Yes, but – "

 _I'm divinity and the cold doesn't affect me as it does to you_.

Not that Lena can say that out loud.

Kara lets out a resounding groan of exasperation.

"Here I was, hoping that you would actually heed my advice for once." With a grunt and a heave, and some effort, she manages to haul Lena up to her feet. "But of course, you never listen." Frantically, she pats the remaining stubborn snow off of Lena and props the fallen angel up against her leaner frame, securing her with an arm around her waist. "You never do."

"Where are we going?" Lena asks, raising her voice to speak over the roar of the wind while they begin their slow trudge through the heavy snowfall.

"Where do you think?" The mortal tugs her close, steadies her when she stumbles and nearly loses her footing over a bump that she can't see through the blur of white and grey pelting all around them. As far as Lena's eyes can see, it's a complete white-out, and it's almost a marvel that Kara knows where they're going. "Some place warm, obviously. Before the storm gets any worse."

"I don't think it can get any more worse than this."

Kara barks a laugh, and despite the poor visibility, Lena still manages to catch the tail end of a wry smile curling on her face as her dark maroon muffler unravels around her slightly.

"Oh, you have no idea."

 

* * *

 

It turns out that 'some place warm' happens to be Kara's home.

And she doesn't stop with her fussing until Lena is settled down beside the warm buzz of the radiator with a thick fleece blanket hanging off her shoulders and a cup of hot chocolate cradled between her palms.

Not that Lena needs any of it.

If anything, Kara is probably the one who needs it more than her – going by the chatter of her teeth and her trembling hands, held out towards the radiator.

Her cheeks are still a shade of wind-stung pink, her gold-spun hair dusted in flakes of snow that had clung on stubbornly despite her good shake down at the entryway.

Overall, she looks nothing short of a dishevelled mess.

All because she had risked heading out in a storm for Lena, who would have pulled through the ordeal unscathed regardlessly. Though of course, Kara doesn't know that. But it still doesn't change the fact that she'd done all that for a stranger off the streets.

As if sensing Lena's gaze on her, she turns to look over at her, sending her a good-natured smile – the one that crinkles the corner of her eyes into soft crescents.

And something in Lena warms at the sight.

"You're lucky that I found you when I did, or you would have probably frozen to death in that snow storm," Kara says, then pauses for a beat, staring thoughtfully at the space in front of her when she suddenly whips her head up, glancing at Lena sidelong with a slightly perturbed expression on her face. "Wait, can angels freeze?"

Lena starts with an imperceptible breath. "You know," she murmurs quietly – pensively.

She fiddles with the steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands, hanging her head low. With the weight of Kara's stare bearing down on her, watching her intently; suddenly, she feels awfully self-conscious of herself – of the shabby state of her dressing and the apparent lack in her poise and grace.

She wonders what Kara thinks when she looks at her. A washed-out angel who had fallen from heaven, perhaps?

A failure of her Father's creation.

"Well, you glow." Kara says, simply, cutting through Lena's self-deprecating thoughts like an arrow.

She glances up slowly at the mortal, confused and abashed. But just like always, she's there, smiling back at Lena with those kind blue eyes, albeit this time, there's something soft in her gaze.

"Even now, you still have that sheen to you," she says, shifting slightly, "and it's sometimes distracting and hard to look away from."

For a split of a moment, it almost seems as if she's blushing faintly under the light, not that Lena can tell. It fades soon after when Kara coughs, wiggling her warming fingers by the radiator. "As far as I'm aware, only divine beings have that."

Lena makes a quiet pensive hum at that. "I see."

So not only is she blessed, she's clear-sighted too.

How rare. Considering it's usually one or the other when it comes to the mortals. Way to hit jackpot in the celestial pool.

_Kara Danvers..._

Lena regards her silently, eyes tracing after the straight arch of her nose, her soft feminine features that would suggest for a conventionally pretty face by mortal standards, and those piercing blue eyes, trying to find something in her that would set her apart from the rest.

But she's nothing remarkable, really. Just another mortal. And Lena would have easily passed her over like everyone else if it weren't for the subtle gleam of divinity twinkling in her silhouette.

Because, for whatever reasons, the heavens have singled her out and deemed her special amongst mortals.

_But why?_

Lena doesn't understand it – doesn't understand **_her_**.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" She asks, a broken rasp of a whisper.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Kara asks her back, softly in turn, and it gives Lena pause for one short delicate moment.

Ever so tentatively, she raises her head, leveling the mortal with a genuinely curious look, searching out her sparkling blue depths in her weak strive for answers.

Kara laughs. "Don't worry, I didn't reach out to you because you're an angel," she says, smiling good-naturedly. But for the first time, in the few days Lena has come to know her, her smile wanes, turning wistful. There is faraway look in her eyes then. A tint of melancholy that colours the hue in her eyes a sombre shade of grey. "I don't know if you've noticed, but our world is harsh. It's cold, and sometimes cruel too."

Lena frowns. _Oh, she's noticed_. Her grip over the ceramic mug between in her palms tightens so. _She's noticed it, alright._

"But if we keep paying cruelty with more cruelty, there will be no end to this cycle." If no one's going to help, then who would?"

Kara sighs quietly – a defeated breath that leaves her deflated. And so very weary. But even so, she still manages to muster on a small smile in Lena's direction. She shrugs, rolling at her shoulders. "It's the sad truth, but I suppose we have to start somewhere, you know?"

Lena nods, "Yeah," she murmurs pensively. "You're right."

And as she watches the mortal a second longer, she thinks she might have understood her then.

Lena smiles, albeit faintly.

_She does indeed have too big of a heart to give._

 

* * *

 

Try as she might, Kara ends up making it her very mission to do everything in her power to help. And despite Lena's initial protest, she soon finds herself staying at a place that's nowhere close to home, and wearing clothes that are not her own. She even patches Lena up, taking much care in the cleaning and dressing of the many cuts and wounds that littered across her body in bandages soaked in holy water.

At this point, Lena is sure that she has literally given her everything there is to give and more. And honestly. She doesn't know what to make of it.

Granted that her time in the mortal realm has jaded her, deadening her heart and enclosing it in within the confines of tall barbed impenetrable walls, she's still not about to go leaving a debt unrepaid. The heavens take, and the heavens give. But first and foremost, the heavens are always fair; such is the code that Lena lives by.

So for as much as Kara has offered her, she tries her best to make it up through her shortcomings – she teaches herself to cook.

It isn't a particularly hard feat. Not when all Lena has is nothing but time on her hands and an apartment filled with stray cookbooks lying around. It also helps that she's somewhat invulnerable to mortal knives and weaponry, and that no matter how many times she slips up, she doesn't exactly bleed like the mortals do.

It doesn't take long before she's soon able to whip up something half-decent onto the dining table, taking Kara by surprise one fine evening when she returns home after a tiring day at work.

"This is good!" Kara exclaims in between bites, wolfishly scuffling down the plate of spaghetti bolognese like she hasn't eaten in days. She pauses just long enough to jerk a fork towards said-dish with much zeal and enthusiasm, head bobbing up and down in approval. "This is **_very_** good."

"Slow down, you're going to choke," chides Lena, albeit half-heartedly if the slight smile on her face is anything to go by. She reaches over to pour the mortal a glass of water, who easily gulps it all down with the same gusto she has taken to her meal.

Kara slapdashly wipes the dribble off her mouth with the back of her hand, throwing Lena a sunny lopsided grin that lights up the very blue of her eyes. "But it's so good!"

Lena sighs in affectionate exasperation. Considering that she has only ever seen Kara have anything but leftover pizza and chinese takeaway for dinner, no doubt she must have been starving for something home-made.

_She really does need to take better care of herself._

Lena doesn't think that there's much nutrition in the stuff she gorges herself on a daily basis, but she supposes that's where she comes in.

"I bet you haven't actually tasted it yourself. So here," Kara actually stops amidst her voracious shovelling to raise a forkful of pasta in Lena's direction, "try it."

Lena purses her lips, staring stonily between the dripping bolognese off Kara's fork to the mortal behind it; Kara, who's looking back at her expectantly with her large blue eyes and her blithe little smile.

"You know there's no need for me eat right?"

Kara doesn't waver in the least bit, only snorting out loud.

"There's no need for you to frown all the time, but you still do it anyway. So your point being?"

On sheer instinct, Lena nearly frowns in response, but catches herself in time to school her features back into a blank mask. She stares the mortal down – hard. But Kara merely meets her head on unflinchingly, the side of her lips quirking into a small ingratiating grin. She wiggles the fork at Lena goadingly.

Lena sighs. "I really can't win against you," she says quietly, and leans in forwards to take a delicate bite off Kara's proffered fork.

Said-mortal beams triumphantly at her, looking almost smug. "How is it? Pretty good, yeah?"

Chewing carefully at her mouthful of pasta, Lena can now safely say that, just like every other mortal dish she has ever feasted upon, it's nothing spectacular. But for some reason, it fills her up with this strange blossoming warmth in her chest that takes her back to their very first meeting in the alleyway – in the snow with the coffee and her warm fingers around her own. And she finds that she doesn't quite want this feeling to end.

_There was never a need for you to be kind to me, but here we are anyway._

Lena smiles, making a soft sound of assent. "It's good," she says, nodding.

When the spark in Kara's eyes glows iridescently brighter at that, the smile on her face widening into a broad radiant grin, something in Lena almost thrills at the sight – the heady warmth in her chest deepening ever so slightly.

"And you know what makes it taste even better?"

"What?"

Kara inches in towards to her gleefully as if to share a scandalous secret, and up close like this, Lena can make out the pretty twinkle of divinity outlining her frame – her face and her eyes.

"Sharing it together with awesome company."

 

* * *

 

Through the many weeks of cohabitation, they have somehow managed to settle into an unlikely routine. Lena cooks, she cleans and tidies around the apartment, and does the laundry when Kara is out, sloughing the day away at work. When she returns home, they'd have dinner together – yes, _together_ – then laze around in front of the TV for a couple of hours before heading off to bed – again, together. No thanks to Kara and her silver tongue convincing her otherwise. (Or maybe it's Lena's inability to say no to her.)

But either way, life is simple – easy even – for the both of them. And in no time, Lena begins to feel better, albeit by no means having reached full recovery just yet, though she does eventually lose that limp in her gait. Even so, it still doesn't stop Kara from coddling her like she's made out of spun glass.

She doesn't mind it at all, at first. The way she'd help Lena reach over the top shelves for things that are slightly out of her grasp. The swiping of the laundry basket out from her hands when she thinks that the week's load is heavier than usual – not that it matters to Lena with her blessed divine strength at play. She can barely feel any strain, at least up till loads that are twice over her own weight. Though, her debilitated body did take quite a bit out of her.

But that's beside the point.

Over time, Kara's constant hovering almost begins to feel... patronising. And no amount of her trademark glowing smiles can distract Lena from the otherwise giant elephant in the room that she can ignore no longer.

"You do know that I'm an angel right?" asks Lena, on a particularly warm summery night.

The words she has worn on her lips for days have finally been breathed into life, suspended in the balmy air between them.

Outside, the cicadas trill in its discordant cacophony of white noise, filling in for the silence that usually comes with the night. All as Lena awaits patiently for Kara's answer.

She traces after the familiar outline of her back in the darkness, illuminated dimly by the faint glow of the moonlight spilling over her in pale gentle seams. And just when Lena thinks that she might have well succumbed to sleep's embrace, she catches the tell-tale murmur of a whisper.

"I know," Kara says quietly, and then, she sighs – heavy and deep. "The eating and the sleeping, I know you don't need it."

She shifts, rustling the sheets as she turns over onto her side, facing Lena in the darkness. She remains silent for a long moment, still and unspeaking, as if mulling over her words, choosing them carefully.

"But to us, mortals, not only are they essential to life, they're a form of comfort to us too. And I just..."

For the first time since knowing Kara, she actually wavers. Granted, Lena might not be able to see her well in the dark, but she can still evidently hear her fidget – jostling slightly at the sheets. When suddenly, there's a sudden stillness in the air when Kara takes in a breath, and it's almost as if everything was held flimsily together by a string, pulled taut and ready to snap.

And it did – in the second when Lena feels soft fingers brushing against her face, a warm palm cradled against her cheek.

"You look so sad all the time, I just want you to be happy for once," Kara finishes quietly, after a prolonged beat. Her thumb gently circles over the apple of her cheek, and it's a soothing, soothing thing. "Are you? Um, happy, I mean."

Lena peers up at her, struggling to see through the veil of darkness, only barely making out the faint profile of her features under the dim lighting. She tries to picture her eyes, the sparkling hue of blue like the heavens on a good day, and the slight curl of her lips in that ever so endearing smile of hers. The way Lena envisions her in all of the mental snapshots she has taken of her during their time spent together.

It fills her with this unbridling warmth and affection.

_Happiness._

"I am," Lena whispers, gently folding a hand atop her swelling chest. And once more, albeit ardently. "I am."

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: some supercorp development before shit hits the fan. stay tuned. xx


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